


Long Time Coming Long Time Gone

by RaeSeddon



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, these two are big flirty idiots I love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeSeddon/pseuds/RaeSeddon
Summary: Post-series. Eric has avoided seeing Presto for Reasons, but he finally has an excuse, and for once can't talk himself out of it.





	Long Time Coming Long Time Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what these two would even do with each other post-series; the answer was "make it awkward."

The question of what he was doing there didn't even occur to Eric until he was knocking on the door. It had been months since they'd gotten back and he had been to everyone's house, met everyone's parents but Al- _Presto's _. He still hadn't even gotten used to saying the kid's real _name _. The house was modest: a two story English cottage design like the one on his family's winter estate only in miniature. There was a garden. For some reason he'd expected it to be there—there was something about Presto that said he came from a gardening sort of family. There was a small grill and patio around the side as well, sheltered by more plants sitting in massive terracotta pots overlaid with rope woven into djinni bottle knots or inlaid with shards of stained glass that threw brilliant patterns of color onto the grass. He watched the grass shift in a mosaic of light until the front door opened and a short, warm looking woman with greying coppery curls blinked at him from behind thick-rimmed bifocals.____

_____ _

“Can I help you dear?”  


_What am I doing here?_

Eric rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and remembered: his hair. It was getting long again, and instead of calling the family barber like he used to, he'd walked and taken the bus halfway across town to let a fourteen year old freshman cut his hair. No, not _any _fourteen year old freshman—one of his best friends. Who he hadn’t seen alone in months.__  


“Oh, uh, is Presto here? I'm Eric one of--” He didn't get to finished before being pulled inside by a strong, heavy hand that was dusty with flour.  


“Of _course dearie, _” The woman beamed at him as he took a moment to obey the woven welcome mat that declared: 'Please remove your shoes, the dog needs something to chew on.' “Was wondering if we'd have to invite you over to get you to visit, but Albert told us just to give it time—Alfie, you have a guest!”__  


“Aww, mom, don't call me that...” Footsteps on the stairs padded quickly down and stopped dead to see Eric standing just outside the tiny foyer. “--Especially not in front of _him _.” There was a moment of desperate mortified silence as Eric struggled to contain a swell of laughter. The only downside to which was that it took a beat or so to trust himself not to laugh the moment he opened his mouth.__  


“H-hey,” He managed, swallowing a particularly painful burst of laughter that was still hovering somewhere in his chest. “How's it going?”  


“Fine,” Presto said pointedly, eyes narrowing in a don't-you-dare expression the (former) cavalier was far too familiar with. “Nice of you to finally come by.” There was a hint of awkwardness there, as though somewhere he wasn't convinced he'd done something earn this late visit when all of the others came and went far more frequently.  


“Yeah I actually uh, well, that is...” Suddenly Eric was having trouble with words: why _had_ he taken this long? It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other since then. In fact the six of them hung out _all the time _. But the first rounds of family introductions and visits had been taken care of almost immediately...at least for most of them. “I kinda wanted to ask a favor.”__  


A hand motioned to his head. Presto's eyes widened.  


“Oh! Oh sure, mom, can we use the bathroom for a bit?” Presto asked, exchanging a silent conversation of expression only with his mother, who nodded in understanding. _Wait, was Eric not the only one who still did this?!_ A sudden burst of self consciousness made him blush. He found a strong hand on his shoulder.  


“You go on up sweetheart, and you're welcome to stay for dinner if you like.” The older woman grinned at him beatifically and nudged him towards the carpeted stairs.  


“Ah, thanks...” Eric narrowly avoided stammering, keeping brown eyes lowered as he made his way to follow Presto up a set of moss green stairs. The whole house was earth tones, steeped in a sort of timeless warmth that came from houses where exceptionally loving people lived. It was something Eric had to get used to, when they got back: compared to the bleak opulence of his estate, houses like Presto's and Sheila's and Hank's glowed with care and gentle affection: as though the feelings of the people living there had seeped into the walls themselves.  


“Hey, look I'm sorry if I embarrassed you back there.” Eric apologised. Presto shrugged.  


“It's fine, she's gonna call me that until I'm old and gray anyway,” The former wizard cast a smile back at Eric that after a moment he felt confident in returning.  


“This isn't...weird, is it?” Eric asked, clutching the rich red-stained railing more than he needed to. “I mean, if it is I could always just--”  


“Eric shut up. I told you, it's fine. I'm just glad you're _here _.” Presto waved to a spacious bathroom that followed the same color scheme as the rest of the house: all cool greens and gray-browns. “Was starting to think you were _angry _at me or something.”____  


The bottom dropped out of Eric's stomach. It was true, they didn't interact quite as much these days...even when they were out with the others there was a distance that didn't exist in the Realm...that _couldn't_ exist when they were practically attached at the hip: back when they needed all the time Eric's shield could buy them for Presto to cast a spell that actually worked.  


“No! That's not it at all, I just...well we see each other plenty anyway, and I meant to stop by on my own I just kept forgetting.”  


Presto bustled around a small wooden cabinet set into the wall like a bird's cage, gathering a pair of hair scissors, a wide comb and a spray bottle, while nudging a bar stool out from under a tall counter that ran almost the length of the room. The lighting made it look like a theater dressing room.  
“Suuure you forgot.” The typical teasing sarcasm was there but Presto's bright golden eyes told another story: he _understood_. The two had needed each other in a way the others perhaps didn't quite grasp entirely: after all, they only had their own experiences to go by and it was shocking how different those were in hindsight. For Eric and Presto the need had been a dire one: he was defenceless without his magic, which was haphazard at best and Eric _was_ his shield, more than he ever was the others'.  


“I'm sorry, I just... It's not like you need me to protect you from any two hundred foot tall chimeras or rampaging dragons anymore,” saying it was the strangest thing. Not because it was hard but because it made everything so much more real—the distance between them a tangible thing--breathing and alive.  


“I coulda tried inviting you,” Presto admitted, taking a folded towel from a cubby beneath the counter. “...But I guess I didn't want you to think that I was still scared of everything.” Necessary or not, he took no pride in spending most of his time cowering behind Eric in a fight. However much he knew he was exaggerating how often it happened it still wasn't enough to overcome the sudden and intense desire to prove just how unnecessary it now was...at least now that everything he came across didn't automatically try to eat him. “Take a seat.”  


“Oh, right.” Eric sat, fidgeting, with hands on his knees.  


“The usual?” Presto asked, filling the spray bottle at the sink.  


“Yeah.” The former cavalier swallowed. “For the record? I always thought you were braver than me.”  


Presto dropped the spray bottle with a heavy clunk onto the gray stone counter, letting the water continue to run as he gaped, open-mouthed at Eric.  


“ _What_?” Eric continued, “You never knew if anything you were going to do would work, but you did it anyway! Most of the time that hat was more dangerous to you than Venger. At least I knew that if I held my shield up it would protect me.”  


The faucet squeaked off but for a second longer all Presto could do was stare and blink.  


“Eric, I've seen you throw yourself in front of bullywugs, orcs, wyverns, a litch, Venger _and Tiamat._ How does that even compare--  


“I don't know, but it doesn't. Trust me. Look, you needed me then, you don't now so I just figured I'd do my part not to make it too awkward, okay?” Eric's blush returned with a vengeance, coloring his whole face to the tips of his ears, which were more obscured by his hair than usual. Presto let out a deep sigh, shaking his lowered head a long moment. When he looked up again, he was smiling exasperatedly. A bony hand reached out un-tuck a lock of hair from behind Eric's ear. Brown eyes met gold in the mirror.

“Just because I don't need you to interpose yourself between me and everything that saw me as a light snack doesn't mean I still don't _need you._ ” There was no shame or embarrassment in the words, just a pained earnestness. “I missed you.” Presto wrapped the towel around Eric's neck and shoulders, one hand lingering as he started to mist a section of deep black hair. Snip. Snip. “I've even missed how you hogged your stupid cape at night.”  


“It was too small for more than one person!” Eric objected, unable to help a smile that quirked one side of his mouth.  


“Sheila's cloak was big enough to cover her and Bobby,” Presto pointed out as lock after lock of dark hair fell away from Eric's head. “You were just a blanket hog.”  


“You wore _full length robes!_ ”  
“They were thin and I was skinny, not exactly a good recipe for retaining body heat.” Presto was starting to giggle at the memories: terrifying at the time when all he could think about was the cold and how very, very little there was between him and the bare elements, now they held a strange warmth and humor. After all, they'd survived, hadn't they?  


“Didn't your parents ever tell you suffering builds character?” Eric retorted, to which the red-head snorted with laughter.  


“No, that's _awful._ ” The red head laughed. “Whoever said that must not have suffered much.”  


Eric blurted a laugh. “No, trust me, they haven't.”  


They cackled together until the fit passed, settling into a content quiet; only the swift _snip, snip, snip_ of the scissors and the occasional hiss of the spray bottle breaking the silence.  


“I guess it was pretty stupid of me not coming by earlier, now that you're actually good at this, huh?” Eric watched Presto's expression in the mirror change suddenly. His bright eyes going glassy, face pinching. Before he could stand and turn, Eric felt lean arms wrap over his neck and chest; the weight of a head burying into his shoulder from behind through a wet towel. Presto's entire body shook; his fingers going lax as he sunk to the ground. The scissors fell from his fingers and into Eric's lap; spray bottle bouncing on the tile floor.  


“God you're such an idiot! I _needed you_. Everyone else had someone to go to... Bobby had Sheila; Sheila had Hank, Diana had me, _where have you been?!_ ”  


Eric spun on the stool fast enough to threaten whiplash, wrapping Presto in a tight hug, heart pounding in his throat; mouth suddenly dry when he realised: Presto hadn't talked about _any of it_ when the group wasn't together.

_Alone, all this time..._

In the beginning, it had been enough that Eric could even attempt to work through it on his own: the remembered fear, the dreams, phantom pains; waking up half way through the night to take a turn at watch that translated to hours of staring at the clock. He hadn't thought about how the others were coping with it—as a rule they only talked about it as a group if it came up. It didn't occur to him there were microcosms of the larger support structure. That Presto did still need Eric to protect him.

And he wasn't there. For _months._

__

__

“Oh god I'm so sorry.” He choked on the words, trying to draw the smaller boy into him. “I just didn't know how...” How could Presto possibly need him when he wasn't holding the shield in his arms? When there weren't any monsters to throw himself in front of and pray it would be enough?

“I know it's not your fault,” Presto sniffed, “I knew this was how we'd pair off when we got back...aside from Lorne I'm the only one who ever had enough _patience_ for you, but I still needed you...” Hands clutched at the towel around Eric's neck until their knuckles nearly blended with the fabric. “I'm not angry, Eric, I'm just glad you're here. Finally

Eric closed his eyes, feeling Presto's sobs quake through him as though he were completely hollow. It was hard to feel any other way for a long time. And then, impossibly, he smiled and pulled away a little, just enough to see Presto's face.

“And this is what I meant when I said I always thought you were braver.” Arms unfolded to rest across Presto's shoulders, one hand moving to ruffle his hair. “You gotta be brave to put up with me.” He sniffed a pained chuckle. Presto looked at him, gold orbs growing large with a sudden understanding. “Now how about you finish this up and tell your ma I'm stickin' around for dinner? And...staying the night, if that alright. I got a feeling this is gonna take a while.” He sat up, squeezing Presto's shoulders briefly as he did. The boy nodded, wiped at his eyes under his glasses and bent to retrieve the scissors. It would a long night. But then, it had been a long time coming.

_____ _

_____ _

*~*


End file.
